


A Perfect Mess

by Rixxy8173571m3W1p3



Series: The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick [91]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: A fanfic of a fanfic, Baking, Based off a fanfic, Based on a Tumblr Post, Blushing, Clones, Cookies, Cooking, Dishes, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Hugs, Kissing, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3/pseuds/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3
Summary: In this fic the reader makes a mess
Relationships: Doofus Rick (Rick and Morty)/Reader, Rick Sanchez/Reader
Series: The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick [91]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/895341
Kudos: 9





	A Perfect Mess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [matchacakesareforfoxes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchacakesareforfoxes/gifts).



> This fic is based off of [Chapter 13](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21612148/chapters/51960439) of the fic [Domesticity: The Random files](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21612148/chapters/51535060) by [Matchacakesareforfoxes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchacakesareforfoxes/pseuds/matchacakesareforfoxes)

You had tried to do this before, but you hadn't tried to do so in this place. In speaking about this place, you meant in the warmth and familiarity of his kitchen; whose tiles, corners, and fascinating collection of mugs were almost known by name; of the items which hadn't been given a name, they still had a purpose but weren't as remembered or remarkable. You've cooked other things here, like lunches and dinners, and breakfast on rare occasions, but baking here had been avoided. It hadn't been because Zeta-7s kitchen was lacking. On the contrary, it was a delightful space and he had all manner of ingredients; you weren't in want of possibilities or lacking imagination, but you held a reluctance.

Talent, for a better word, was not what you had when it came to sweets. It wasn't an art like cooking, but a culinary science which you knew Zeta-7 had studied down to the smallest degree. Still, you were going to try. Oh, but trying was different than doing.

You leaned towards an upper shelf for the bottle of good vanilla and found you couldn't reach. If this hadn't been as much of a surprise as you wanted it to be, you would've accepted his assistance. You would've admired the outstretched arm which would've found no challenge in grabbing the amber bottle; filled with the essence which forever permeated a few of his favorite sweaters and at times was detected on his skin. Yet, those were sentiments which could flourish on another occasion, because you were going to do this on your own.

* * *

Perhaps you should've prayed instead.

The song McArthur Park came to mind when you stepped on the eggshells which missed the trash can. When the baking soda spilled all over the counter you couldn't recall, and you realized you were dusted with flour as though you had applied it like an after shower perfume; you thought maybe you should've quit. Yet, despite losing the recipe you had pinned on Pinterest and the ungodly amount of sugar which had been used, the batter was mixed together and placed in the oven. Great, that was done but now there was the mess. Oh man, where to begin.

Glancing at yourself, you thought maybe you should change, but you'd have to swing by your house to do so. Decisions, decisions; it just felt like too much work. During the span of time when you had wondered as to what you should do, the scent of burning passed your nose. That part though was simple to figure out; the oven was on fire. Wait……the Oven was ON FIRE?!

“RICK!”

Wherever he had been in the house hadn't mattered, for not only did he rush in, but his three robot clones had as well. If you hadn't been so panicked, you might've wondered why they hadn't joined in past cuddle sessions. Zeta-7 wasted no time when he scooped you up in his arms while clones one and two extinguished the fire. "Are y-y-you okay?"

"I'm um… I'm fine, but I'm not sure about the oven."

Clone three removed the burned contents of what would've been cookies, and determined that nothing had been damaged, but it would take a while to clean. Seeing that his robots had it under control, Zeta-7 eased you down onto the couch not caring if you would leave a mess and inspected you until he was satisfied that you hadn't injured yourself. "Ricky, I told you I was fine."

"Y-you're right, I'm s-sorry."

"No," you sighed; disheartened but all the more so embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I can't believe this all happened. I should've asked where the fire extinguisher was first. That, or bought some baking skills at Bed Bath and Beyond. I'm pretty sure you can find it in the abyss of the Beyond section."

Now that death was not imminent, you were a jumbled mess and just babbled as though it would make things better or possibly make sense. Zeta-7 for his part studied you, and the more he did, the more you wished you could crawl under a rock. You deserved to be yelled at, scolded, or anything where you would be punished for daring to believe you could keep up with this man skills. And when he opened his mouth to speak, you thought you were in for it, but instead, he laughed; the kind which spoke of his relief; you hadn't quite expected that reaction. You were partly confused, partly annoyed that he hadn't been upset when he should've been, but your pouting only encouraged his amusement; his laughter filling the house with this happy noise.

When he was like this, you couldn't stand how much you loved him; how you were won over, and enamored by the radiance he exuded easily; all the lines around his eyes and mouth prominent but reassuring of his happiness. Soon enough, having watched Rick collapse over himself with mirth, inspired giggles of your own to bubble forth. It would be a few minutes when either of you was rational; at least enough to explain what had transpired a half-hour before. 

You wanted to bake cookies and surprise Rick while he was working. That was it; just bake cookies then surprise Rick with said cookies; possibly earn a few brownie points; any points for that matter, but no, the Baking Gods were against such aspirations for you evidently. Rick for his part, placed his hands lightly on your shoulders and gave them a squeeze, leaning over enough so you both would be eye to eye. “I don't think any Gods had a hand in this, I think y-your power is just too great for baking cookies.”

You tried not to, but you couldn't help it and began another fit of laughter with Rick not far behind. "I don't think I have any powers worth mentioning, but they are weak against chocolate. As well as other things."

The laugh which had been ready to escape him seemed to die as he took a glance at your lips, then away as though whatever thought sprang up in his head wasn't worth elaborating further. You really wished he would've because then you could've elaborated on a thought of your own.

* * *

When you two had found your composure, you set about cleaning up the kitchen together; hopefully, it would be easier now that you had gotten the taste of pyromania out of your system. “Rick, you don't have to stay here. I can clean it up on my own.”

Zeta-7 wouldn't hear of it and simply smiled. "It's okay. Besides, it's no fun cleaning up th-the dishes by yourself.”

You blew a raspberry at him, petulant. "Are you sure? Or is spontaneous combustion also a worry for you?" 

"N-no not at all."

“You just don't want me to be in here by myself anymore, huh?” you teased; flashing him a wink.

Confusion; the silent inquisition which occurred when you danced in between the barrier of enigmatic and odd. The questions which he had never came up, for the confusion melted into something like a smirk as he flicked some suds on your nose with the dish sponge. With mock surprise, you grabbed a spoon from the soapy water and placed it under the faucet; effectively splashing him and also yourself. "That did not go as I planned it."

Rick shook his head at you, but instead of responding he dipped his hands in the water and splashed you with more soapy dishwater; you responding in like kind; splashing each other and getting water all over the floor and yourselves; completely soaked in a matter of minutes. You didn't want to know how much worse you must've looked. However, when you calmed a little from your hysterics, you realized he had stopped laughing; lost to his ruminations. You wondered if you had pushed him too far, or if he was upset about the wet floor, but what followed was not what you had expected.

He was staring at you past his drenched bangs, his electric blues immovable in their intensity; this in itself was not uncommon, but it gave him this otherworldly quality; as though they would glow in the dark if the lights went out. The front of his sweater clung to him; the outline of his lean muscles impossible to ignore. You felt warmth in your cheeks; warmer yet when the hand which had been holding a sponge earlier, came up to cup your cheek and an arm was slipped about your waist. "Rick, I'm a mess. You don't…you wouldn't want to..."

"Gosh, y-you're so beautiful." he interrupted.

"What? No," you retorted, trying to pull away from his grasp as though you didn't deserve it. "not like this. I'm a mess and the dishes still need to be washed. If anything, I'm a disaster."

Tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear, he softened. "Y-you're not a disaster."

"Yes, I am. I disrupted your work, almost burned down the house and dirtied your cute sweater."

"Gosh, it was only a-a happy accident."

"In what way?" you wondered.

"I-I got to see you. I don't know when I-I would've stepped out of the garage. Possibly whenever I finished working on my latest invention, but I should've been here instead. We could've baked together."

"I didn't want to bother you. You had your welding helmet on and all those processor chips. I wasn't sure if you were making a computer or a doomsday device, but you were busy. I know how important your work is to you."

"It is important but not as important as you. I'm sorry about that. I - an idea had struck me and I was dying t-t-to get started, but it seems I wouldn't have been able t-t-to get that far anyway since I didn't have all the parts required. This means I-I did have time."

"I didn't know. I just wanted to make you happy with a sweet surprise."

"Gee, I'm happy having you here. That alone is enough. I got t-t-to see a whole new side to you that I haven't seen before. I don't - I'm not talking about the way you're dressed, but unlike those other times we've cooked together, I feel as though I saw the real you. You don't - I know how you feel when it comes t-t-to baking and how frustrating you find it, but finding you there amongst that mess, wearing an apron that's a-a little too big for you and the flour on your cheeks, why it was…"

"A mess." you frowned.

"An adorable mess; a beautiful mess; a-a perfect mess."

"Dear, I don't think those words go together."

"I guess they don't, but I meant it when I said I was glad t-t-to see you're alright, and here all in one piece. That's all I could ask for. I thought an intruder had managed t-to get into the house, or that one of the security bots had malfunctioned, which was why I unleashed my robot clones, but seeing that it was simply a-a cooking accident was the best thing I could've seen because it meant that I-I hadn't lost you."

The hand which had cupped your cheek slipped itself into your hair and smoothed it down, gently, and with purpose. The seriousness which you had seen in his eyes earlier had returned, and the arm around your waist tightened. "Rick," you softened. "it'll take more than burned cookies to take me away from you."

"Really?" he brightened.

"Of course."

Looking at you, in that funny, darling way as he did from time to time, he pressed a kiss upon your temple and lingered there; finding comfort in the closeness. You rubbed his back, and told him it was okay; that you were okay and that he didn't need to worry. Though, in reality, you realized that you needed to be more diligent next time you decided to bake. However, knowing that he had your back if you put yourself in danger again was comforting in its own right. 

And when it seemed that he had been comforted enough, he pulled away a little, only to return with an unknown confidence and captured your mouth in a soft kiss; his insistence winning you over, and made you forget what it was either of you was supposed to do; all there being was you, him, and the fading world. Entranced, you seemed to mold into him, and melted with every second that passed. If you hadn't needed to breathe, there wouldn't have been any force in this universe that could've made you two part. Yet, part you would, and when he pulled away, you wondered. "What about the dishes?" 

Whether he was aware of it or had done it unconsciously, Zeta-7 chased after your retreating mouth. With cheeks aflame, he answered before kissing you again. "The dishes can ugh - can wait."


End file.
